


when you got a good thing

by bail



Category: American Idol RPF, Bandom: The Anthemic
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-10
Updated: 2011-06-10
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:16:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bail/pseuds/bail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cook wishes he was famous sometimes. Then he wouldn't have to pretend to be a bartender at a lousy bar. AU fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	when you got a good thing

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** David Cook, David Archuleta and et al. belong to themselves. No copyright infringement is intended.
> 
>  **A/N:** The story can also be read at my [fic journal](http://bail.livejournal.com/1236.html) over at livejournal. Thanks to [yehwellwhatever](http://yehwellwhatever.livejournal.com/) for beta'ing for me! Title is taken from Lady Antebellum's song of same name. This story was written for [lire_casander](http://lire-casander.livejournal.com/)'s birthday, prompt being 'An AU fic where they're not famous'.

Cook wishes he was famous sometimes. Then he wouldn't have to pretend to be a bartender at a lousy bar. Because truth be told, it's all just _pretending_. He can't tell one drink from the other; especially not if it's a fruity drink or one of those that requires an umbrella. Beers, yes; beers he can handle, because that's what he drinks himself, but all the others are just confusing as hell.

The woman in front of him lifts an eyebrow and glares accusingly at him when he hands her a glass of rum and Coke.

"I wanted an _Affair_ ," she says, repeating her order. Cook's eyes go wide as he looks taken aback at her, because he is fairly sure that he hadn't heard her say that the first time around. She is certainly pretty, but not at all his type. Not that he really has a type, because really, he's a guy, and most guys don't care all that much as long as they end up getting some. But there is something about her that just doesn't seem very appealing to him. She looks him up and down, and he gets the feeling that he's not her type either.

"Sorry," he tries, shrugging. He's about to tell her that he doesn't do affairs with married women, because he has already been there, done that, and now spots some scars from the husband's Rottweiler on his ankle to remind him of why it's not a good idea. But the woman in front of him just sighs loudly and leans forward over the bar counter.

"It's a drink," she tells him, sounding slightly annoyed. "I don't want an affair with you, I just want the drink."

And see, right back to pretending. Because honestly, he had no idea that there was even a drink called that.

"It's not on our menu," he says, perfectly aware of the fact that he hasn't even bothered to check the menu, ever. And just as he is good at pretending, he is also good at not caring about what the costumers want. "Well, there's the rum and Coke, complimentary of the house. Or beer. Your call."

He knows Michael will be pissed at him for handling customers like that, but he can't make himself actually care about that right now. Besides, Michael probably wouldn't know it either. Although maybe he's wrong, maybe they do have drinks like that in Australia. He makes a mental note to casually work it into their next conversation.

She takes the glass of rum and Coke reluctantly and walks away. He is pretty sure that she's pissed, because all the people she passes glare after her as she makes her way through the room. But Cook doesn't care. He just wants his shift to be over so that he can move on to the highlight of his night, which is singing.

He, Neal and Andy have formed a band together. _Again_. They still haven't decided on a name, but Cook can feel that this is the right one; that as a band, they can make it far. The fact that they have only played regular gigs at _Mike's_ doesn't bother him. They will get their breakthrough. He has to believe that, because he's not ready to settle for just being a pretend bartender for the rest of his life. True, he can always use his degree in graphic design, but that would mean that he will have to take back his promise to himself to try until his twenty-eighth birthday to make it in the business. He has no idea why he chose twenty-eight as his deadline though. Possibly because his mother kept badgering him about getting a real job and it was the first number that came to mind.

"What did she want?" Carly asks, leaning against the bar, her cleavage even more revealing than usual. He looks at her shirt, the name of the bar printed across the tank top stretched impossibly tight across her chest. He can understand though, why Michael has chosen the tank top as the required uniform for the females. His eyes linger there for maybe a tad too long, and she makes a 'hmpf' noise, clearly indicating that she's annoyed. He smirks as he glances up again. It's no secret that Carly and Michael are in lust for each other. He is not sure if there is love involved too, but there is definitely lust.

"Mike coming in today?" he asks with a smirk gracing his lips, because it's clear that Carly has chosen a shirt that's a number too small. It is like this regular thing. Every time Michael swings by the bar to check up on things, Carly is wearing a shirt that is too small.

"Oh fuck you," she says with that Irish accent of hers, laughing as she reaches over the bar counter to hit his shoulder. He moves out of the way, grinning widely. Just like he pretends to be a bartender, Carly pretends that she doesn't want Michael. They both fail miserably.

"And for your information, she wanted an affair," he says, eyes glinting with amusement at the joke, because there is no way Carly will know that one either.

"You are like the worst bartender ever. I bet you didn't know how to make that one and instead just gave her a horrible mix of rum and Coke, like you always do when they order something other than beer."

He looks at her, surprised. Huh, not only does she knows the drink – or makes it sound like she does – but apparently he's also become predictable. It doesn't settle nicely within him. Not that there is anything wrong with being predictable, but still. Everyone knows that you can hardly get famous if everybody has this certain picture of you, which you can't break free from.

"I'm so not predictable," he says, though he knows that there is no point in denying it. He's known Carly for almost three years, and she knows him pretty well by now.

"Sure hun," she says, winking.

He huffs, not finding it amusing at all. If anyone is predictable here, it's Carly for always choosing a shirt a size too small when Michael comes in. Now _that's_ predictable.

~

His conversation with Carly lingers at the back of his mind when they sit down at their regular burger joint, which is more like a really small and cozy diner, after their gig at _Mike's_. They always get burgers after singing. It's like a tradition. Still, he kind of thinks that also makes him a bit predictable, though he calms himself by saying that it's really Neal who likes this place.

"The usual?" asks the waiter. It's this timid little dark-haired boy who looks like it is way past his bedtime, and it's always the same boy. Cook grumbles, picks up the menu and looks at the items listed. His eyes stray to his usual menu, but he forces himself to look for something else today.

"For fuck sake Dave, just go with the cheeseburger and Coke," says Neal, annoyed as he lights up a cigarette. This is a non-smoking diner – Cook noticed this the very first time they entered the place – but an ashtray always magically appears in front of Neal.

He really wants the cheeseburger and Coke, but if even a waiter they see only a handful of times a month remembers his order, then he might just have become a tad too predictable.

"What's your name kid?" he asks, and looks at the boy, noticing the pretty dark eyelashes that falls over the flushed cheeks as the boy looks down at the small ordering book. _Oh_ , he thinks. He's aware that it's always been the same boy, but still. It feels like it's the first time he really sees the kid.

"David," he says, sounding quite timid. Cook feels confused for a couple of seconds, but then sees the nametag attached to the boy's chest.

And then something very unpredictable happens. He feels something coil in the pit of his stomach, something that he hasn't ever really felt before. It rattles him so much that he just ends up saying, "Uh, cheeseburger and a Coke thanks."

David smiles and Cook lowers his eyes to the table, glancing intently at the salt and pepper shakers.

"Dave, man, you look like shit."

Well, he can always count on Neal to make him feel better.

Andy turns his head and looks at him. Cook looks up, and then blushes when Andy just smiles as if he knows what is going on with Cook's insides. Bloody blushes, he does. Like a school girl. Over a boy who looks like he's maybe twelve. He reaches over and steals the cigarette from Neal's hand and takes a couple of drags from it. It tastes like shit, and reminds him of why he usually only smokes when he's had a lot to drink. But if his stomach gets to be unpredictable, well, then he wants to try too.

"What the fuck, man," says Neal and takes it back from him, making a point to look at Cook like he's grown an extra head. Right now, Cook certainly feels like it.

David the waiter comes back with their drinks, blushing when he and Cook accidentally locks eyes. Honestly, he only looked up to say thank you – because his mom totally raised him with good manners – but instead he finds the most gorgeous hazel eyes staring at him shyly and he freezes.

"Thanks," says Andy for both of them, and pushes Cook's Coke closer to him.

"You're welcome," says David, smiling softly before walking back behind the counter and starts to wipe it clean. Cook could really use a beer or five. He finds himself watching David as the boy cleans and moves stuff around.

Neal lights up another cigarette, blowing the smoke right into Cook's face, which makes him cough uncontrollably. "Seriously Dave, if you want the boy so much, just ask him for his number instead of sitting there undressing him with your eyes. It makes me uncomfortable."

Neal is hardly one to speak. He once dragged Cook along to this burlesque show to see this green-haired girl with tattoos all over her body take her clothes off. Just a friend, had Neal said when Cook had asked who she was, but it had still been uncomfortable for him to sit there watching Neal drool over a girl. Who funnily enough was undressing herself. But that's beside the point. The point is that Neal can just shut up.

"Neal, be quiet," says Andy, and Neal clamps his mouth shut and doesn't continue with whatever it is that Cook just knows he wants to say. It's all in the eyes though. Neal looks haughtily at Cook, and Cook just rolls his eyes, because he knows that Neal is right.

Still, he has never asked a man out – _boy_ , his mind corrects him – only females, and so he has no fucking clue what to do. Sure, David flushed adorably red when their eyes connected, but that doesn't necessarily mean that he wants Cook.

David walks over with their plates of burgers, balancing two on one arm and holding the third in his other hand. Cook smiles, Neal smirks and Andy offers to take the plates.

"I had the cook put extra ketchup on it for you," says David, smiling widely, looking absolutely adorable.

"Wow, thanks," he says, and then mentally kicks himself for that lame response. And now he's right back to the predictable part, too. He realizes that he always asks for extra ketchup, but this time around David has added it for him.

They end up leaving around one in the morning, without Cook asking for a phone number. Though he can't really afford it, he made sure that David got a considerably amazing tip. David waves and smiles as they walk past the windows, and Cook raises his hand slightly and waves back awkwardly.

Neal teases him about it on the entire way home, and calls Cook a pussy for not being brave enough to do something about getting David home with him. That's the downside of sharing an apartment with Neal and Andy; he has to listen to taunts even when he's at home.

"I don't want to fuck him," says Cook and sits down in his favorite chair. Well, it's the _only_ chair in the living room – or better yet, make that the entire apartment – and Neal and Andy sit down on the couch.

"Please, you were practically mind-fucking him. I'm not blind," says Neal and reaches for the remote. Cook can't argue with that, because his thoughts had definitely not been completely innocent. Still, it's new for him. He's never wanted another man before. He glances at Andy and Neal, and nope, he definitely does not want either of them. Just thinking about being intimate with either of his two friends makes him shudder.

"No, but you are stupid to listen to," says Andy, and again, Neal shuts his mouth. Cook can see Neal's nostrils flare at the comment, and wonders for the nth time how the hell Andy manages to do that. He toys with the idea of asking Andy to teach him his magic trick, because honestly; anyone who gets Neal to shut up has to be using magic.

Andy goes out to the kitchen and comes back with bottles of beer for them all. See, beer is definitely something he knows about. He thinks about the woman from earlier and says just to lighten the mood a bit, "A woman came in today and told me she wanted an affair."

Andy rolls his eyes at the comment, and Cook can see that the corner of Neal's lips twitch.

"Bet you gave her rum and Coke," says Neal, drinking from his bottle of beer.

David glares. He can't believe that everyone knows that there is a drink like that. "How do you even know it's a drink?" he asks, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans back in the plushy chair.

"Well, it was either a drink or she actually wanted an affair with you, and I decided to go with the most likely," explains Neal and smirks. Cook sees Andy smiling amusedly.

"I'll have you know, that people do want to have affairs with me. I get like ten offers a night!"

"That's because people are drunk and the alcohol makes you look more handsome."

They continue like this until almost four in the morning, when Andy stands up and tells them he's going to bed because he's tired of listening to them bickering like an old married couple. They look at each other, both immediately closing their mouths and biting back their comebacks. Cook gets up from the couch and goes into the kitchen to get some more beers. He hands one to Neal, and Neal nods his thanks.

~

He really doesn't mean to go back to the diner after his afternoon shift at _Mike's_ the next day. But he has somehow managed to walk the three streets from the bar to the diner and is currently looking through the window. It's busy, seeing as it's about dinner time now.

He figures that he might as well get a cup of coffee, now that he's actually here, and pushes the door open. He sees an empty booth at the far end of the diner, and quickly makes his way over there. It's warm in here, especially compared to the mild spring weather outside. He takes off his jacket and places it on the seat beside him.

"Hi there, what can I get you?" asks a perky female, and Cook glances at her nametag. _Brooke_ , it says. Her hair is blonde and shiny and she has a big smile on her face. For some reason, he can't stop thinking about sunshine right now.

"Oh, coffee, thanks," he says. She smiles, nods a couple of times and then pours him a cup. Like with the ashtrays, the coffee always seems to appear out of nowhere. Like they are just standing there with a pot of newly brewed coffee behind their backs waiting for someone to ask for it.

"Anything else?" She looks so happy and nice, and he wonders how anyone can look so cheerful.

He decides to stop being such a pansy and asks, "Is David here?"

"Oh no, sweetie," she says, and Cook's finds himself feeling a bit weird by learning that information. She smiles though, and continues, "His shift doesn't start until ten." Cook returns the smile, relieved and nervous at the same time. There is still a little less than two hours until David will arrive then, which means that he has about two hours to get his nerves together and behave his age, which reminds him that he only has less than two years to become famous.

He ignores the phone calls from Neal, and very reluctantly answers the one from Andy when the old lady who sits a couple of booths from him glares like he just murdered her cat. She looks like a cat person, he thinks, and answers the phone with a brusque, "What?"

"You should ask him," says Andy, talking like they are in the middle of a conversation already. David frowns, not sure what the fuck Andy is talking about and even who ‘him' is.

"I have no idea whatsoever what you are talking about," he says and smiles at the old lady who continues to glare at him. Her eyes flicker up to his hair, and then she scowls at him.

"Stop pretending Dave, I know you."

Well, that makes it one of them, because he is personally feeling a bit lost right now.

"Listen, Dave. I know Neal is being an ass about this whole thing, but I saw you too, and you are interested in the boy –" Cook winces at the word, feeling even more like a pervert than the time he accidentally forgot to close the blinds on his windows and bared himself to the world, or well, at least the people in the apartment complex across the street, "– and while you were being a complete jerk about it I took the time to watch him, and he blushed every fucking time he glanced your way. Which, by the way, obviously means that he liked what he saw too, okay. In fact, now that I think about it, he always looks at you that way."

Cook feels like saying something, protesting maybe, but Andy continues before Cook gets a chance to say anything.

"And he's heading to the diner right now so please be a good boy and don't be afraid to go after what you want."

He is not sure if Andy continues to talk, but either way, Cook is no longer listening. David is coming to the diner, more than an hour before his shift and Andy knows.

"What do you mean he's coming to the diner now? Where the fuck are you?" hisses Cook into the phone, lifting his hand to cover his mouth. He stares anxiously at the door, waiting for it to open. He's tempted to get up quickly and just leave, but part of him want to see that smile again.

"Why, me and Neal are sitting on the bench across the diner right now of course, watching you as we speak."

Cook turns his head as fast as he can and looks out of the window. The bench across the street is empty. "Like hell you are," he retorts.

"Yeah, well. We actually had better things to do than watch you make a fool of yourself. And for your information, we ran into him just two minutes ago. He asked for you."

Then the connection is broken, and Cook gapes at his phone for some time before realizing that Andy just hung up on him.

The door chimes loudly and Cook strains his neck to see if it's David who enters, and when he does see the adorable face he instinctively scoots down in his seat, lifting the menu to hide behind it. He feels like he's a teenager again, which is kind of funny considering that the guy he finds adorable is probably still one.

He watches over the edge of the menu card as David makes his way through the crowd of people. David stops to talk with sunshine-girl who smiles and nods and points in Cook's direction. Shit.

"Hey," says a voice timidly, and Cook lowers the menu and then sits straight in his seat. Next to the table stands David, shifting awkwardly from one foot to the other, while he proceeds to blush more than Cook ever thought was possible for one person to blush.

"Brooke says you asked for me?" David bites into his lower lip and Cook stares transfixed as the teeth worries the plump flesh.

"Oh, yeah. And err; Andy said you asked for me?" It comes out as a question, mostly because he wants to know if Andy was joking or not.

"I did."

David sits down across from Cook, and Cook can't help but smile. He can totally do this, piece of cake and all that shit. But then David continues to talk, and Cook momentarily forgets what he wanted to say when he hears David's soft and quite positively delicate voice. His pants suddenly feel a bit tight and he tries to cross his leg to cover the bulge in his pants, but only ends up bumping his knee against the underside of the table and making his coffee run over the edge of the cup.

"Here, let me," says David as they both reach towards the napkin holder on the table. Their fingers touch, and Cook feels a current run through him where they touch, his fingers starting to tingle weirdly. "Sorry," says David and lowers his eyes, long dark eyelashes resting against the flushed cheeks.

"You want to go out?" he asks quickly, and then regrets his rash decision when David looks like a deer caught in the headlights of a car. "I mean, it can just be as friends if you want."

David wrinkles his nose and smiles softly before shaking his head. "I'd rather it be a date if you don't mind."

"That would be tremendously marvelous," he proclaims and then laughs, suddenly no longer feeling so nervous anymore.

"Oh, haha," laughs David, and Cook doesn't think he has ever heard such an awkward, adorable laughter before.

He reaches out, his fingers lightly grazing David's fingers. David's fingers jerk away for a moment, but then tentatively return until they are once again touching each other. They sit like that until David's shift starts, and Cook stays in the same booth for the entire night, watching David work. Every now and then when David has time, he slips back into the seat across from Cook, and Cook reaches for his hand, their fingers interlacing together over the checkered tablecloth.

~

Their first date is awkward as hell. Cook doesn't know what to say, so instead he just talks and talks about stuff that no one really cares about, and he even tells a couple of those stupid jokes that he knows. David, however, seems to be finding them incredible amusing because he laughs that weird, awkward laughter every single time followed by a, "Oh my heck Cook, that's not even funny!"

But Cook doesn't care that they are not funny, because David is smiling, laughing and outright giggling constantly, which makes Cook feel all warm inside.

He walks David home, hands stuffed deeply into his pockets, back hunched over slightly. His fingers itch to reach out and grab David's hand, but he doesn't want to be too bold and accidentally scare David.

Their second date goes mostly the same way as the first. They go out to dinner in a proper restaurant that Andy had suggested. The food is good, Italian, which is always tasty. However, Cook makes the mistake of ordering a bottle of wine. David looks nervously at him and tells him that he's actually only eighteen. He is slightly startled when David tells him this, though oddly enough, very relieved too. He has kind of been too afraid to ask how old Archie is, in case Archie wasn't legal yet.

"What do you want to drink?" he asks politely, smiling widely and hopes that David can see that he doesn't really care about the age difference. But when he gets home, he can't help but stare helplessly at Andy and Neal. There are eight years between them, and right now he feels like a perv for even finding David attractive. Andy tries to comfort him, but Neal, charming as always, just has to voice his thoughts on the subject. When Cook goes to bed that night, he kind of thinks about dumping David.

The morning after their second date, Cook wakes up determined to stop this thing he has with David. After all, David is too young for him, too innocent. And like Neal pointed out, the fact that they share the same first name if fucking confusing as hell. When someone rings the doorbell door, he forces himself to crawl out of the bed, glaring at Andy and Neal's closed doors as he walk past them. At least one of them could have gotten up and answered the door. Cook is in pain here, his heart is kind of aching and they could have been considerate enough to get the door rather than leaving him to it.

"Hi Cook," says a shy voice when he opens the door. It's David, standing there freshly showered and looking adorable. Cook gapes at him, confused, but also kind of excited to see David again. Ending things with David? No fucking way, he thinks as he lets the younger boy in. He scratches the back of his neck as he looks around, wincing at the mess of the living room. Discarded empty bottles of beers takes up most of the space on the small table by the couch, clothes are scattered (systematically) about and yeah, it's dusty as fuck.

"You err, want to sit?" he asks. David looks around, nods absently and then turns to look at Cook. Cook takes a step back, surprised at the determination that lingers in that look David sends him. He is about to offer David something to drink when David walks towards him, a small sun-kissed hand reaching up to touch Cook's cheek, caressing it softly. Cook thinks it must feels a bit scratchy, because he hasn't shaved properly in like forever, But David just continues to touch, looking almost content.

"Um," says David, and Cook looks down, trying desperately to catch David's eyes. David, however, is now looking somewhat to the side (at the months old dust that cover the TV, it seems). "I like you," says David, voice no louder than a whisper David, and Cook lets out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in.

"Excellent," he says, fighting to get rid of that grin that just won't seem to leave his face no matter how hard he tries. David finally looks up, and offers Cook that adorable, timid smile that makes Cook's heart flutter a bit (just a bit). "The feeling is definitely mutual." So yeah, screw Neal, he thinks, and leans down to capture David's lips with his own.

And okay, the kiss is fucking awkward, that's what it is. Teeth bump together and it's wet and probably the worst first kiss ever. But Cook can unquestionably see the potential that lies hidden there, because David is eager and so is Cook. They just need to kiss more, that's all.

They're still kissing when Neal and Andy emerge from their rooms sometime later, Andy smiling widely and Neal gaping like he can't believe his eyes. Cook can't help but smirk and when David leaves (because he has to meet his mom for lunch), Cook turns to Neal and says, "Guess you'll just have to get used to two Davids."

Their third date is by far the best one yet. They go to this old music store that Cook loves, and as they walk through the many rows of records, he points and _educates_ David in all things musical. But what makes this date the best ever, is when David actually knows what he is talking about. Because David plays the piano and sings! And fucking plays the _piano_. Cook can't seem to get past that part. To make it even better, David is actually studying music during the day, like seriously studying it.

Cook wastes no time and quickly ushers David into the smaller room in the back and asks, demands, him to play something. David smiles and shakes his head, too shy to sit down, though Cook can see that he kind of wants to.

"Please," he says and tries to give David his most charming look. And finally, David gives in and sits. Slender fingers reach out and touch the keys, pressing one finger down experimentally and smiles as a sound erupts from the instrument. Cook leans against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, and then he waits.

When they leave the store, Cook is walking amazed and dazed by David's performance. He throws his arm around David's shoulder as they walk down the street, and a small hand grabs the back of his shirt bashfully in return.

By the time they reach their sixth date, they still haven't gotten past the kissing stage. But he likes David, so he tries not to push it. After all, his boyfriend – fuck, Cook still can't get over the fact that he now has a _boyfriend_ – is merely eighteen, and so fucking innocent and adorable that he can't help but want to protect him too. Which surprisingly (or not so much, really) does not go hand in hand with him fantasizing about getting David naked and ravishing him until he has tasted every inch of that sun-kissed skin.

During all of these dates, Cook still has to work, because he now needs money more than ever, so that he can actually take David out to nice places. He still doesn't care if the customers get the drink that they want, but he tries his best to no longer just pretend but essentially _be_ a bartender. It's a difficult transformation, and it starts with him actually looking at the menu. His eyebrows go up when he sees that there are a lot of weird drinks on the list. And he has one of those ‘huh' moments when he sees the drink Affair on the list.

After their gigs, they still go to the diner where David works. Only now, Cook doesn't really pay. Neal complains about this, so in the end it's Andy who pays for both his own and Neal's. Cook wants to point out that it's hardly fair, but Andy just places a hand on his arm and shrugs as if it doesn't matter. Neal grins complacently in return.

"You coming Dave?" asks Andy when they get up from their seats one night.

"No, but I bet he wish he would be soon, right now," grins Neal, sounding too smug for his own good. Cook glances at David who blushes at the remark, and fuck yeah, he wishes that he could drag David into the backroom right now and have his wicked way with him.

He walks David home after work. He does this every time, and he refuses to think that something like this makes him predictable. It's only polite, and Cook was raised properly. Besides, he likes walking with David like this, likes receiving the looks that they get when they walk down the street. David is his boyfriend, and he kind of wants the whole world to know.

"Cook, I, um," mumbles David, as they stop in front of the front door to the apartment building that David lives in. He smiles encouragingly, waiting for David to go on. David's chest rises and falls as he inhales and exhales soundlessly. Cook watches, mesmerized by the sight. "Do you err, maybe want to, um, come up?"

Cook's dick jumps at the possibility of getting laid, but David sounds nervous so he forces himself to calm down.

"I don't care what Neal says, you know," he tells his boyfriend, a hand reaching out to cup the soft cheek in his calloused hand. "I don't want us to rush into this. I want you to be ready and to actually want it when it happens."

Seriously, a guy can only take this much, he thinks, when David looks up at him through the thick, dark eyelashes.

"It's not that I don't want… I just, um," whispers David, voice so low that Cook has to lean down to catch the softly spoken words. "I just, I've never before, and I want it to be special."

Cook nods understandingly. He wants it to be special too. David is the kind of person who deserves special, deserves to be worshipped. Still, when he gets home, he once again introduces his dick to his hand, though this time all he can think about is how he wants to make love to David, not ravishing him (though that would be kind of awesome too), but actually make love to him. His heart skips a beat. Well, fuck.

Somewhere along the line, Cook loses count of the number of dates, counting the weeks and eventually months instead.

It's at their three month anniversary that it finally happens. Cook has managed to save up enough money to take David away for a couple of days. It's their first time being completely alone without anyone (Neal) interrupting them all the time. And as they lie there in bed, hundreds of candles lit up around the room, Cook finally gets to undress David completely.

David lies there, moaning and whimpering as Cook kisses every inch of skin lovingly, velvet tongue dancing over the skin gently as he explores. It feels fucking amazing, and though he kind of can't wait until he is deep within his boyfriend, he kind of also wants to take all the time in the world and do as he promised himself weeks ago; namely worship David's body like it's supposed to be.

David gasps under his touch, and Cook looks up and smiles adoringly at the flushed cheeks. "I love you," whispers David softly, and Cook's heart swells until it feels like it might just combust inside of him.

"I love you, too," he says, and maybe for the first time ever in any of his relationships, truly means it. David smiles and reaches out for him, and Cook crawls back up until their faces are so close that their breaths mingle together. And when it does happen, when they finally become one, Cook can barely breathe.

They spend Thanksgiving apart, both going home to their families. But Cook accompanies David back home to Utah when it's Christmas, and in return, David spends New Years Eve with Cook's family. Cook prefers New Years Eve. Not that he didn't like David's family, but sitting there next to his boyfriend – who is eight years younger than himself – with the parents watching his every move, kind of makes a man paranoid.

Around their one year anniversary, they move in together. Or rather, Andy and Neal tell him that he might as well move seeing as they hardly ever see him anymore outside of band practice and gigs. When he tells David this, his boyfriend just looks at him and smiles. The day after, they start to look for an apartment together.

~

"I want an affair," says the woman, licking her lips seductively as she leans across the bar counter to make sure that Cook gets a good look of what's barely hidden beneath the flowered, flimsy shirt. He smirks, reaches out to find the right ingredients. He pours schnapps, orange juice, and cranberry juice over ice in a highball glass, and then tops it with club soda.

"Here you go," he says and places it in front of her. She frowns and looks curiously at the drink. Cook smirk widens at her expression.

"I didn't ask for a drink," she tells him, pretending to be coy.

But Cook is tired of pretending, tired of not doing his best, "Well, you asked for an Affair, and seeing as this is a bar, I just made you one."

She turns around and leaves, not taking the drink with her.

Carly comes over, putting her tray down on the counter and looks questioningly at him. "What did she want?"

"An Affair," he says, shrugging.

"Bet you gave her the rum and Coke," she says, sounding incredible smug. Cook just shrugs again and pushes the glass closer to her.

"What's that?" she asks, and Cook's eyes now glint with amusement.

"That, my dear, is an Affair."

She picks it up and sniffs at it before putting it down again.

"Why is it still standing here then?"

"She didn't ask for the drink, apparently."

She laughs, shaking her head. He likes the fact that Carly had no idea how the drink was supposed to be either. The music changes on stage, and he leans against the counter as he watches someone go up there. The bar quiets down as people turn to the stage to get a proper look at the one who took away the music from them.

"Welcome to _Mike's_. I'm Michael Johns, the owner of this mighty fine establishment." Some people cheer and Cook claps amusedly as he watches Johns fighting with the spotlight shining directly in his face. He had done that the first couple of times himself when he had gotten up on that stage, but now he barely even notices it anymore. Someone whistles loudly and then a couple of catcalls are heard. Cook turns his head and sees Neal and Andy, standing together next to the stage. He forgets to watch Johns and instead tries to catch his friends' attention.

"– And I got the weirdest call this morning –" Cook no longer pays any attention to Johns, who rambles on and on about something up on the stage.

He watches, eyes wide, as Neal reaches out to tuck a strand of Andy's hair behind the ear, fingers lingering perhaps a moment too long. He watches as Andy smiles, and as Neal returns the smile, snakebites glinting as the spotlight illuminate them for a split second, before it turns all the way around until it hit's Cook in the face.

"– Cook, are you even paying attention back there behind the bar?"

Cook lifts his hand to shield his eyes from the harsh light that makes him go completely blind for a couple of seconds. Not a sound can be heard as they all turn to look at him, and he suddenly feels like he's in that dream where he's standing naked in front of his English AP class. He looks down, just to make sure, and sighs in relief when he sees that he's wearing his _Mike's_ work shirt.

"Huh?" he says and looks up, and finally the spotlight turns away from him. And then he sees, there on the stage is David, shifting shyly from side to side as he clutches a microphone in his hand.

"Hi Cook," says David into the microphone, and Cook moves around the counter and starts to make his way through the mass of people. He might have elbowed a couple on his way, but all he can focus on is David on the stage.

"After you left this morning," says David, smiling, eyes only on Cook. Cook likes that about David. When he's talking to Cook his eyes never leaves Cook's face. "I got this phone call from the record label, and guess what; you get to be a big _famous_ rock star now."

Cook stares openmouthed at David, not believing what he's hearing. Then David hands the microphone back to Johns who's looking smugly at him. He waits until David is standing in front of him, and then he smiles, still trying to process the words.

"Yeah?" he says.

"Yeah," says David and nods, reaching up to wind his arms around Cook's neck. "Oh yeah, by the way, happy twenty-eighth birthday. I've got you a present too, but it's at home waiting for you."

Cook grins and then leans down to press his lips against David's, hands going around David's smaller frame, and pulls his boyfriend closer as he deepens the kiss. Their tongues dance softly together, David moaning into Cook's mouth when Cook lets his hands wander. He loves kissing David, loves the sound that his boyfriend makes whenever they kiss. They've been together for a little more than a year and a half now, and it has been the best eighteen months of his life ever.

"Don't forget me when you get famous," whispers David against his lips. Cook can barely hear him as the music has now come back on, but he gets the gist of it when David trembles in his arms.

"Without you, I don't even want to be famous," he says, and surprisingly enough means it. Because he's learned that fame isn't everything, because as long as you have someone you love and who loves you in return, you don't need to be famous to feel important.

"Right," says David and blushes, grinning as though he doesn't believe Cook. But Cook knows that David knows what he means. Because David gets him, like really gets him.

"You could always try out for that American Idol show," he suggests. "Then, when you've won it, we could be famous together and everyone would want us at their parties and stuff." Okay, he admits it, being famous is still a dream of his, and it seems so unreal that he will now get his chance to try it out.

"I doubt I could win it though," says David and shrugs. Cook stares, still, to this day, amazed that David doesn't even know how talented he is.

"You'd not only win it, but you'd win over America like you won me over with that adorable smile of yours. Trust me; I'm not just saying this because I love you…"

"I do too," says David, and stands on his toes until their breaths mingle together. "Love you, I mean." He watches as David looks shyly at his lips for a few seconds before finally reaching up to tug Cook's head down again and kisses him. Without David, being famous would probably not be all that amazing, which completely reminds him that he needs to call his mother to let her know that he no longer has to be a pretend bartender nor has to look for proper employment. Because he's going to be famous, and David is going to be there with him, and it's going to be immensely incredible.

 _fin._


End file.
